Get Dressed
by the-misfortune-teller
Summary: [I'll Be With You Through The Dark Follow On Fic] Fic based on the prompt "( 10 years) It takes Derek forever to get dressed for anything. Telling Derek that all his clothes look the same will generally end up with Derek taking twice as long to get dressed." [Established Sterek/Future Fic]


**(+10 years) It takes Derek forever to get dressed for anything. Telling Derek that all his clothes look the same will generally end up with Derek taking twice as long to get dressed; likewise, telling him he's behaving like a petulant child by taking twice as long only makes him take even longer.**

"Would you please just put some fucking clothes on?! " Stiles shouts up the stairs. "We're only going to Scott and Allison's!"

After a few minutes of pointed silence, he rolls his eyes and throws his jacket down on the side table before bounding up the stairs.

"You don't even have a shirt on!" He snaps accusingly as he pushes the bedroom door open. Derek scowls at him, throwing another t-shirt onto the bed. "Why don't you have a shirt on?"

"Because you've lost my favourite shirt."

"How can you have a favourite shirt when all your shirts are dark grey?"

Derek huffed angrily, crossing to the bed and grabbing a handful of discarded shirts, waving them at Stiles. "Green, blue, green again, dark red, black, grey." The shirts get thrown back onto the bed one by one as Derek lists their colours. "What have you done with the navy blue one? The v-neck one."

"You know, if you did the laundry yourself you wouldn't need to start making spurious allegations about how I lost your supposed favourite shirt." Stiles grins, flopping on the bed. He balls up one of the shirts and throws it at the back of Derek's head, earning a quick flash of red eyes for his troubles when Derek easily ducks out of it's way.

"Last time I did the laundry you bitched at me for not separating stuff."

"Because you ruined my shirt by washing it with your stupid black jeans!" Stiles replies. "You're not supposed to wash dark stuff with light stuff. You're thirty three, Derek. Why don't you know that?"

"You're also not supposed to pour bacon fat down the sink because it clogs the pipes but that doesn't seem to stop you."

"That was one time!" Stiles gets to his feet and elbows Derek out of the way of the dresser, slamming the drawer shut and opening another. "Wear this." He suggests, holding out a bottle green shirt. "It makes your eyes look nice."

Derek huffs and takes the shirt, pulling it on over his head and looking down at himself. "It's too tight."

"Yeah, because you insist on working out all the time." Stiles grins, wrapping his arms around Derek's waist. "Would you please just put something on? You can't go topless. It'll be too distracting; I might lick you during dinner."

"Why you lick me?" Derek asks with a small smile.

"Because you're very lickable." Stiles replies, dropping to his knees and pushing up the hem of Derek's shirt before licking a stripe up his stomach. Derek moans quietly, biting his lower lip and running his hand through Stiles' hair.

"That's not a very convincing argument for why I should get dressed, you know."

"Why were you getting dressed again?" Stiles mumbles, pressing a kiss below Derek's navel and nuzzling at his happy trail.

"Because we're supposed to be going to dinner." Derek replies haltingly as Stiles' fingers stray to the fly of his jeans. "With Scott and Allison."

"But I want to suck your dick." Stiles whines, rubbing Derek's rapidly hardening cock through the thick denim.

"You think I don't want you to?" Derek sighs, putting his hands on Stiles shoulders and gently pushing him away. "Later? OK? Remember what happened when we went to Isaac's place last month?"

"Scott shouted at me for turning up 'stinking of come'." Stiles sighs, making air quotes as he gets to his feet and pouts at Derek. "You know, I think he's just jealous because his life contains hardly any blow jobs whatsoever."

"You two still talk about stuff like that?" Derek asks with a sigh, pulling off his shirt and snatching up the grey one he'd discarded earlier.

"Yeah, of course." Stiles replies with a shrug, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Because you're allegedly adults? Because Scott is married and has a child? Because you left high school nine years ago and people who are out of high school don't talk about stuff like that?"

"So you didn't tell Boyd about how we had sex in the restroom at that bar a few months ago?"

"No."

"Liar."

"That was different." Derek huffs, crossing to the closet and pulling out a button down shirt and shrugging it on. "We were playing never have I ever."

"Oh wow, so mature!" Stiles laughs happily, smiling up at Derek. "You've totally shown me the error of my ways. I won't talk to Scott about blow jobs anymore, unless we happen to be playing stupid drinking games."

"Come on." Derek sighs dramatically, cocking his head towards the door. "We're going to be late."

"Yeah, that was sort of the point I was trying to make before." Stiles grins. "When you were having a clothes related drama."

"Sooner we go, sooner we can come home." Derek shrugs, grabbing hold of Stiles' hand and pulling him up off the bed.

"And then blow jobs?" Stiles' grin widens as he gives Derek a brief hug.

"Yes."

"Fucking awesome!" Stiles gives Derek a quick peck on the cheek and heads for the door, singing his self composed 'blow job' song to himself under his breath. Derek shakes his head fondly, following Stiles from the room and down the stairs, wondering how early they can skip out on dinner without appearing rude.


End file.
